


Distractions

by ChrisWrites3434



Category: Arrow (TV 2012), The Flash (TV 2014)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Children, Alternate Universe - No Powers, F/M, Married Couple, Mississippi, Multi, New Orleans, Not set in Central City, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Pregnancy
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-01-03
Updated: 2015-01-14
Packaged: 2018-03-05 01:15:46
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,518
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3099563
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ChrisWrites3434/pseuds/ChrisWrites3434
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Now that their son is three years old, Barry is eager to have more children with his wife Iris. Unfortunately for Barry, Iris is finally at a point in her career where she is ready to hunt for the groundbreaking and gritty stories that will gain her notoriety. Iris is unprepared for the fallout that comes with the spotlight--gritty stories often comes with the baggage of deadly adversaries.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Distractions

**Author's Note:**

> Author's Note: I wanted to try out this idea, maybe it works, maybe it doesn't, but worth a shot! In the comics I know that Iris and Barry have twins named Dawn and Don, but for the sake of this fic, they have one kid. This story is AU and will focus on three couples: WestAllen, Caitlin x Ronnie, and Olicity. Hopefully, someone enjoys reading this, because I had fun writing it.

**Distractions**

Chapter One

            “Babe, how much longer do you think he can keep this up?”

            “He’s three, this could go on all day.”

            “I need to finish my make-up; I look like Cujo with this one eye done.”

            “Iris, Cujo was a gargantuan rabid dog with a taste for human flesh and scaring the crap out of little kids. You look nothing like him.” Barry wrinkled his nose. “Unless you’re mad at me—and then Cujo’s got nothing on you.”

            “That’s it, I’m divorcing you.”

            “That’s too much paperwork. You’re stuck with me…forever.” He blew her a kiss.

            “Where is that child of ours?” Iris sighed.

            Barry, who had mastered the art of being daddy and best friend, shrugged carelessly. “Let him play, Iris. How often are we taken to the emergency room with life threatening injuries?”

            Iris giggled. “Did he really say that we had life threatening injuries? Does he even know what a life threatening injury is?”

            “I think he’s been paying more attention to Grey’s Anatomy than you realize.”

            “That kid is too smart. I blame you.” She winked.

            Even though Lucas said to stay still, Barry turned over on his side. He stared back at Iris in that way—as if she was the brightest star in the sky. Even after four years together her heart still skipped a beat—when he smiled, or his eyes lingered, or he leaned in for a stolen kiss.

            “ _What_?” she whispered.

            “You,”

            “What about me?”

            “I’m lucky,” he said.

            The thing about her husband was that he was a self-proclaimed cheese ball. Barry had no shame in saying, “I love you,” five times a day, or writing thoughtful cards just because. Barry could easily fit into one of those sappy Nicholas Sparks movies without the cancer subplot. _She was lucky to have him_.

            Their journey to marriage had been long and filled with other relationships that didn’t last, separation in the name of college, and minor or major heartbreaks along the way. But the universe wanted them together…and now here they were…chasing their dreams in New Orleans.

            “I’m not in a rush to get to your holiday party.” Barry said it apologetically. He hated to disappoint her.

            “Neither am I, but the holiday party is the perfect place to bring up the stories I’ve been given lately.”

            Barry looked away from her. Iris knew that Barry felt as if her talents were being wasted at the NOLA Gazette.

“I figured that we could make an appearance at the holiday party. Eat some of the food, talk to my co-workers, and have a glass of wine. Then we’ll sneak out and head to date night. Caitlin and Ronnie volunteered to let Luca stay over.” She clapped her hands giddily.

            “Oh?” Barry cocked an eyebrow. “We have a night to ourselves?”

            “Yes, you are not sleeping tonight.”

            “Is that an order?”

            “It’s a _demand_.”

            Barry’s green eyes lit up. “We might break the bed.”

            Iris’ mouth dropped. “Barry, _shh_ , you’re loud.”

            He smiled like a kid on Christmas, “I’m sorry…I’m just excited. I can’t remember the last time we had sex.”

            “It was when the dinosaurs walked the earth.” Iris teased.

            “Because mommy is never in the mood.”

            “If I had a slingshot right now, Barry Allen.”

            The last couple of months had been hectic work wise. Her workload had increased, mostly bullshit stories, but still it kept her in the office late. On the rare occasions that she got home before having to pick up Lucas from daycare, and Barry got off at a decent time, the plan would be in action. She would slip into something sexy, pour some wine and order aphrodisiac food, basically anything that could be shared or licked off hands, and by the time Barry got home she was in bed. Which meant that daddy and son got to bond, while mommy snored. 

            “Mommy, daddy…hold on! I need to check the pressure.” Lucas hollered from his room.

            _Check the pressure? Check the pressure of what?_ Iris’ eyebrows furrowed. “We would be dead by now.”

            Barry was smiling. “He’s probably inventing some antidote to cure us.”

            “What? Burgers and fries?” Iris laughed.

            Lucas tended to be a picky eater but he always asked for burgers and fries or chicken and fries. Barry could be a pushover on a lot of things, but never with food—especially since he was the chef of the house.

            “Lucas, sweetie, are you coming?” Iris asked.

            “Mommy, hold your horses!” Lucas said.

            Iris’ mouth dropped. Barry chuckled.

            “You heard the little man. Hold your horses.”

            “Stop antagonizing me, Barry, or you’re not getting the handcuffs.”

            “The handcuffs?” Barry’s eyes darted to Iris. “Handcuffs are involved in this transaction? Are you dressing up like a cop too?”

            “I’m taking you in…into the station.”

            Barry whistled. “And if I resist?”

            “You won’t resist.”

            His cheeks reddened. “Do I get to handcuff you this time?”

            “Maybe,” she said coyly.

            Barry wagged his eyebrows. “Merry Christmas, Barry,”

            “Don’t make this cheesy.”

            “We already established…I can’t help that.”

            “Okay, okay, I had to turn in reports.” Lucas exhaled, as if he had just worked back-to-back shifts at the hospital. Amused, Iris raised her head and watched as their little person shuffled towards them.

            Lucas took after his parents equally. His complexion was the same shade of golden brown as Iris’, and he had a headful of dark curly hair. His eyes were green and fringed by long eyelashes, and thick eyebrows.

He was wearing a mini-lab jacket and stethoscope that Caitlin had gotten him for Christmas. A teddy bear was clutched in his arms. Lucas named all of his toys, Iris was pretty sure that this bear was named Larry.

            “Daddy, can you hold Steven for me?” Lucas asked.

            _So it wasn’t Larry_.

            “Of course.” Barry reached for the teddy bear and cradled it in his arm. “Is Steven going to make me feel better?”

            Lucas smiled at his dad. “Uh huh,” meticulously he placed the stethoscope to Barry’s heart. “Auntie Caitlin says that you can count the number of heartbeats.”

            “How many heartbeats can you count in the next minute?” Barry asked.

            “Daddy, _shh_ , I need to concentrate.”

            Barry glanced at his wife, amused. Watching Lucas and Barry made her consider trying again for more kids. She vividly remembered how excited Barry and her dad had been the second Lucas came into the world…crying, sleeping, and stealing hearts left and right.

But, then she would remember the sleepless nights, the _breast feeding_ , and the path that her career was heading in—Lucas was worth it one hundred percent, but realistically there wasn’t time for another baby.

            “You can go home.” Lucas gave Barry a kiss on the cheek. “All better.”

            “Oh yay!” Barry sat up and clapped his hands. “Should I let mommy hold Steven?”

            Iris reached out to take the teddy bear, but Lucas shook his head.

            “No, mommy is too sick to hold Steven.”

            Iris laughed, but her son stared back at her as if she was a leper handing out Happy Meals to kids. Her laughter trailed off. “How come _daddy_ gets to leave the hospital and I have to stay?”

            “It’s the make-up on one eye…Cujo.” Barry teased.

            “I will show you Cujo later tonight.”

            “Please do.” Barry said, crossing his arms.

            Iris shook her head and smoothed down Lucas’ wild curls. “What were daddy’s symptoms?”

            She often tried new words out on Lucas to test what he knew, but still he managed to surprise her every day.

            “Hmm, let me see.” Lucas squinted down at his hand. “Tummy ache,”

            “Does he get any medication to cure his tummy ache?” Iris asked.

            “Yes!” Lucas reached in his pocket and hopped over to Barry. “Daddy gets gummy bear medicine!”

            “My favorite.” Barry said taking the pretend gummy bears and popping them into his mouth.   
             When Lucas returned to Iris, he sighed. “Mommy for your case I will have to consult, Dr. Snow.”

            _Consult Dr. Snow_! He was so smart. She’d never heard him refer to Caitlin as Dr. Snow before. To appease her young doctor, Iris faked a cough.

            “Oh no!” Lucas’ eyes widened and he gave her a hug. Iris felt his small hands rub circular motions on her back. “You’re okay, mommy. Here is some medicine to make you all better.” The medicine he gave her was a kiss on the cheek.

            “Thank you!” Iris gushed.

            “You’re welcome,” he said with a nod.

            Barry clapped his hands, “Okay, little man, how about we make some cookies for Aunt Caitlin, Uncle Ronnie, Grandpa Joe, and Felicity?”

            “Grandpa Joe?” Lucas asked. He brought his hands to his mouth.

            Iris smiled and circled her arms around Lucas. He squirmed as if he didn’t want to be held, until she loosened her grip, and then he sank back into her embrace. Grandpa Joe was in New Orleans every chance he got. He turned to putty around his grandson.

            “Is Grandpa Joe coming to New Orleans?” Lucas started to jump around.

            Iris let Lucas go. Giddily, the three-year-old ran over to Barry with his hands outstretched.

            “Grandpa Joe! Grandpa Joe! Grandpa Joe!” He chanted.

            Barry picked Lucas up in his arms and spun him around. Lucas giggled and kicked out his legs. Iris watched with wide eyes—Barry was clumsy, he never dropped Lucas—but vases, computers, and Barry…were always casualties of too much excitement.

            “I’m so dizzy.” Lucas sighed. And then he smiled up at Barry, his small hands touching his dad’s cheeks. “Grandpa Joe?”

            Barry looked at Iris. She could tell that he didn’t want to make any promises. Lucas had a memory like Barry’s if you told him that Grandpa Joe was coming, he would ask you every day, “When is Grandpa Joe coming?” until Grandpa Joe arrived.

            “He’s going to try his best to come.” Iris said.

            “But I miss Grandpa Joe. Could we call him?”

            “We can call him tomorrow. Grandpa Joe is at work right now, okay.” Iris said standing up from her “hospital bed”

            “Okay,” he sighed. “Could we call Grandpa Henry then?”

            Grandpa Henry was a prickly subject. Barry and Iris tried to answer Lucas’ questions as honestly as possible, but he was too young to understand the concept of jail and murder. Barry looked down—although he didn’t talk about it anymore, Iris knew that Barry still battled the urge to solve his mother’s murder.

            They moved to New Orleans because Henry Allen had demanded it. He couldn’t stand to watch as Barry went dark—and so this life; this life Iris and Barry had built in Louisiana was a retreat from the darkest days in Central City.

            What Barry didn’t know was that Joe had reopened the case. Iris had no intention of informing her husband until her dad found a lead.

* * *

 

            Iris leaned against the wall as she curled her hair. Both eyes were done now.

            “We made enough cookies to feed the Quarter.” Barry announced.

            Iris smiled. “What’s our little terrorist doing now?”

            “Our _angel_ is watching Bubble Guppies.”

            Iris knew all of the children’s shows because she had too, but Barry actually seemed to enjoy them. Iris couldn’t count the number of times that she caught Barry humming along to a theme when Lucas wasn’t around.

Barry went over to the toilet.

            “ _No_ ,” she said.

            “Huh?”

            “I love you, but if you’re about to number two, then I’m exiting.”

            Barry tilted his head to the side. “Last time I did that you threw your hairbrush at me.”

            Iris watched as Barry whipped it out to pee. They had been married for four years, and with each year they got more comfortable. Sometimes while Barry shaved, Iris stood next to him plucking that aggravating hair that sprouted underneath her chin every blue moon—she used to tame that beast under Camp David security.

            He washed his hands. Barry then got behind her and wrapped his arms around her waist. He brought her closer to him and brushed his lips against her shoulder. Barry was warm. Iris relaxed against him. “You need help with your hair?”

            “No, I’m not trying to be bald headed.”

            Barry scowled playfully. “My wife has no faith in my skills; at least my kid still thinks I’m cool.”

            Iris met his eyes in the mirror. “What are you wearing tonight, babe?”

            “Is that a trick question? I saw the outfit you placed on the bed.”

            Her lips quirked into a smile, “there is also one hanging on the closet door. You have options.” 

            “The allusion of options, _girl_. You don’t own me…okay?”  

            He was being playful. Iris shimmied her way out of his arms.

            “Who am I kidding, you own me.” He touched the skirt of her black and white polka dotted dress. “I like this.”

            “Good, then you’ll like taking it off later.” Iris glanced over her shoulder at him, going for seductive, but giggling.

            “Yes, ma’am.” Barry hopped onto the counter as Iris continued to do her hair. “Iris,”

            “What, Bear?”

            “Do you think that there is anything you could say to your assignment editor to change his mind?”

            She noted the hesitation in his voice. Barry conceded when he needed to, but when it came to her best interest, he was always vocal. He wanted her to leave the NOLA Gazette and take the job opportunity at the Times Picayune.

“You don’t need to kiss anyone’s ass. Ass-kissing isn’t an Iris West trait, _ass-kicking_ , yes, but not ass-kissing.” Absently, Barry toyed with the Tiffany’s charms on her bracelet. “After your piece on post-Katrina life in the Ninth Ward newspapers and magazines from all over started taking notice. They were all looking for my amazingly talented wife.” Barry gave her an earnest and enthusiastic smile. “And In high-school everyone followed your blog, and people actually read the school paper for your articles.”

“There were other great writers, Bear.”

            “Not as good as you.” Barry said.

            “This isn’t high-school anymore.”

            He kissed Iris softly. “Shh, I had an excellent argument.”

            “But—

            He kissed her again. “Think on it. You don’t need the gazette. They need _you_.”

            Iris rested her hand on his cheek. Lucas had been quiet for a while. “Luca! Are you still watching TV?”

            “Yes mommy.” He answered as if it was a chore. Clearly, Bubble Guppies was demanding so much attention.

            When she turned back to her husband, he was staring back at her. Iris understood his frustration—because she always complained about the fluff pieces she had been given the last three months. Iris was stubborn to a fault, because she had chosen to stick it out.

            Many writers from the NOLA Gazette won Pulitzer Prizes and moved on to bigger and better things, and that was her chosen path. Her dad didn’t raise a quitter. “When someone tells you that you can’t, what do you tell them?”

            Barry tucked Iris’ hair behind her ears. “I’m not telling you that you can’t.”

            “I know, Bear. but what I’m saying is that I don’t respond well to can’t—or being sidelined. I’ve been working at the NOLA Gazette for two years and I’ve written some pieces that I’m immensely proud of. I’m telling Richard tonight that I’m not writing that fluff piece on Oliver Queen.”

            “Really? But I thought he was number one on your three list.”

            Iris scowled at her husband. “Why do you remember that?”

            “Um—because I remember all of the guys you liked before me.”

            Her cheeks warmed. “ _Anyways_ —I’m not writing that piece. The tabloids have written enough on Starling City’s ‘in-hiding’ ex-billionaire.”

            “Is he still on your three list?”

            He had that jealous look in his eye, the look that was a cross between a heartbroken puppy, and a man whose football team lost. “No, I grew up. Who needs three lists when you have the energizer bunny to keep you warm at night.”

            _When in doubt, stroke your husband’s ego_. Barry was no exception to that rule.

            He grinned wide, and placed both hands on her face.

            “Don’t mess up my make-up.” She teased.

            He kissed her. “I trust your instincts. I support you. No one puts baby in the corner.”  While he looked into her eyes, Barry pulled off his boxer briefs. “I’m going to shower now…because I’m dirty.”

            Iris heard Lucas singing along with the TV.

            “That’s a panda!” she heard him say. 

            “Do you want to take a shower with me?”

            “Do you see this?” Iris gestured to her hair, make-up, and dress. “I didn’t wake up like this. It took a few hours to perfect the look.”

            “You _did_ wake-up like that.”

            “Get in that shower, you’re making us extra-late.”

            Barry winked. “Ohhhkay, we can give Luca a brother or sister later tonight. Or maybe even twins.”

            “Give Luca a _what_?” she nearly choked on the words.

            It was no secret that Barry wanted a huge family. He grew up an only child and from a young age he had been far more advanced than his peers. Barry knew what he wanted to be—a scientist, he knew that he fell in love with Iris, before he even knew what the word meant—and he wanted a bunch of West-Allen kids to spoil rotten and encourage to follow their dreams. He hadn’t asked to try for more kids since Lucas, but here he was now, asking.  

            “Bear?”

            He laughed it off. “Gotcha.”

            And then he turned around, quick as lightning, nearly taking down the shower curtain in the process. No, that wasn’t a gotcha. He was asking if they could have another baby.

            Iris brought her hand to her heart. Another baby was the last thing on her mind.

 

* * *

 

            “Felicity, I had no idea that you were going on a date tonight.” Caitlin said, as she discreetly tossed a pregnancy test into her basket.

            Her good friend adjusted her glasses, “I didn’t mention it, because let’s face it, we know how these ‘dates’ always turn out. They seem civilized online and then when you meet them they transform into an orangutan who only knows three words: breasts, sex, and…” Felicity made a grunting sound.

            “Hmm?” Caitlin asked, confused.

            Felicity repeated the grunting sound. “There is a variation of the grunt, but essentially it’s all primitive. Why do I even bother with online dating? Why do I even bother with the XY challenged?”

            Caitlin had to admit that Felicity’s dating experiences had been profoundly horrible. There was the IT guy who referred to himself in the third person, the guy who showed up to a date wearing a Depends—and he was 27, and then there was the guy who ended the date skinny-dipping in the Mississippi River. Caitlin shivered at the thought. 

            “Why didn’t you coordinate the date with me and Iris?”

            Felicity shook her blonde ponytail, “Because you guys are married, not to each other of course, even though I thought you guys had something on the side when we first met, because you’re so close, but totally not the point…and I’m rambling to distract you, but your Caitlin Snow so distracting you is a moot point.” Felicity took a breath.

            Caitlin studied Felicity, eyes narrowed, lips pursed. “Are we cramping your style?” she paused, thinking over the words that came out her mouth. “Is it to crimp or cramp, and remind me to never say that again.”

            “I don’t know,” Felicity said. “But I do know that I’m a big girl. I don’t need my two best-friends to swoop in like Batman and Robin and save the IT girl from good food and atrocious banter.”

            “But, we enjoy being wing women.” Caitlin reminded. “The wing women job description comes with perks, Lafitte’s drinks and frozen yogurt binges at Sucre.”

            Felicity had picked up a bottle of bright blue nail polish when they first entered the CVS on Canal Street, and now it was gone. Empty hands meant a single checkout line, and a single check out line meant that Felicity would see the pregnancy test.

            Caitlin didn’t want that, because if she was pregnant—there was a chance that she could have another miscarriage. Caitlin didn’t want Felicity and Iris to feel obligated to show up with chick flicks, spa days, weekend getaways, and epic we’re-here-to-support-you speeches—granted Iris and Felicity’s methods were drastically different, Caitlin didn’t want all of the attention.

            Yes, she and Ronnie were trying to get pregnant. Yes, it was proving to be difficult, but, she was learning to take the punches as they came. Caitlin was accepting that she couldn’t control everything. Even though she was a scientist her body was an overwhelming mystery. Why couldn’t she carry a baby to full term? The doctors said that nothing was wrong.

When they reached the checkout line Felicity made some excuse about checking out the technology hardware, at CVS, _yeah right_ , and left her.

            Felicity definitely saw the test. As Caitlin paid for her items. Her eyes scanned over the tabloids. As usual Oliver Queen, tabloid fodder since the death of his entire family, was front row and center. The headline read.

            ON HIS DEATHBED. TROUBLED EX-BILLIONAIRE, TRADES HIS LIFE IN STARLING CITY, FOR A SHACK IN MISSISSIPPI, IS THIS THE END?

           

 

* * *

 

            So, she _was_ pregnant.

            It was nighttime now and Caitlin was sitting in the den. A fire was dancing in the hearth, and from the couch she could see the lights of the Central Business District. She was waiting for Ronnie, or Barry and Iris to drop off her favorite little person, Lucas.

            Caitlin felt emotional, and she hated feeling that way, because it was so irrational. _She was pregnant_.

            The door opened and Ronnie stepped in. Her husband was wearing an oil stained white tee shirt and jeans. He took one look at Caitlin and he already knew that she was falling apart. Caitlin couldn’t guard her emotions from Ronnie, because he was like fire…he knew how to thaw her from the inside out…whenever she tried not to feel.

            “Cait?” Ronnie’s forehead creased. He mouthed, “Oh no,”

            “Sorry, these tears are totally disgusting.”

            “No,” Ronnie walked over to her and got down on his knee. “What’s wrong? What happened?”

            “Nothing, I’m just being dramatic.”

            “Caitlin Snow being dramatic?” Ronnie stared at her blankly, and then he smiled. “No way.”

            “Was that a dig?”

            “No.” he kissed her hand. “I’m sorry that I’m all dirty.”

            “You just came from work. It’s to be expected.” Catlin ran her hands through his dark hair.

            “Talk to me,” his voice was strained. “I hate seeing you cry.”

            _This was good news_. Great news actually—but when she really thought about it, Caitlin was terrified. She had everything that she wanted—her career, a great family (ie. Ronnie, Barry, Iris, Lucas, and Felicity), and the only thing that was missing was a mini-Ronnie, or a mini-Caitlin running around the place. 

            “Felicity is going on a date tonight.” Caitlin said.

            Ronnie gave her a small smile and reached for a box of Kleenex’s. “Does that mean that Iris is ditching the holiday party, and going on a date with you to spy on Felicity’s love life?” 

            Caitlin gave Ronnie a faint smile. He stroked the side of her face tenderly. “No, Iris and Barry are still going to the holiday party. Felicity is going on a solo-date.”

            “Is Lucas still coming over?”

            “Yes, I rented the _Little Mermaid_ and _Beauty and the Beast_. I’ve been looking for the perfect reason to re-watch them, and you won’t watch them with me, because you like man-movies.” Caitlin snorted. “And _Die Hard_ still doesn’t count as a Christmas movie.”

            “I would watch Disney movies if you asked me to.”

            “You didn’t want to watch _Frozen_.” Caitlin said, still wiping at her tears.

            “Meh,” Ronnie stood. “I’m going to shower, so I can hold you.”

            “I don’t need to be held, Ronnie.”

            “Then I can cook for you. Barry showed me how to make a few things.”

            “Did he show you how to make that curry shrimp?”

            “Unfortunately, he didn’t.”

            Caitlin snapped her fingers. “We need to get that recipe from him and Iris.”

            “Are you pregnant?”

            She met his eyes, Ronnie looked afraid, but he still kept that confident and enchanting smile. Caitlin could read Ronnie most of the time, but since he got back from the war, he had become better at hiding. She found herself wanting to fix broken pieces of her husband—broken pieces that she couldn’t ever reach. He never talked about the war.

            “Yes,” she said.

            Caitlin remembered how excited Ronnie had been the first time. He had cried and then he and Barry went to Home Depot to buy wood and the materials needed to make a crib. And only after the excitement did he worry about being a good dad, and not making as much money as she did.

            “That’s good news, Cait.”

            “But my body, keeps rejecting…”

            “As much as I would love a kid of our own, I’m happy enough with _you_.” Ronnie stood up. “I’m going to shower. When I come back let’s cook dinner together and set up sleeping bags. Lucas always wants to camp out here…we should make smores for him too.”

            For all his worrying about not being a good dad—because of his upbringing, Ronnie connected well with Lucas. Caitlin watched as Ronnie disappeared into their room. A few moments later he returned, shirt off, boxer briefs hugging his waist. Ronnie kissed her forehead and then he kissed her mouth.

            “I love you, Caitlin Snow.”            


	2. Damage Control

Chapter Two- Damage Control

            “Where is your wife, Iris?”

            Gretchen Adams strutted over to Iris in a skin tight green dress. A Cheshire grin was painted on her face, and a not-work-appropriate-amount-of-cleavage was jiggling with each step. She looked like she belonged underneath a Live Girls! sign on Bourbon Street.

            “Are you referring to my best-friend, Caitlin?”

            Gretchen shrugged. “I’m referring to the brunette who usually accompanies you to these events. She talks too much and doesn’t know how to smile.”

            Iris refrained from stooping down to Gretchen’s level. “I brought my hubby tonight, Barry. You’re always complimenting the flowers he brings me at work, so let’s not pretend.” _Burn, Bitch_. Iris easily retrieved her sunny smile. “Can I help you with something?”

            Gretchen’s eyes narrowed slightly. “Oh no, honey. I was just swinging by to see how your fluff piece on Oliver Queen was coming?”

            Across the room, Iris saw Barry watching her. He was flashing the bat signal, pointing to his chest, and motioning towards her and Gretchen. Her husband knew that she didn’t like the _wench_ , and if anyone could push Iris’ buttons and make her forget herself—for a hot second—that would be Gretchen. Iris quickly shook her head. It had always been a Barry trait to try and fix everything and everyone—but this was her battle.

            Iris poured a little more punch into her cup. “How’s the wine, Gretch? That’s like your fifth cup, right?”

            Gretchen pursed her glossed lips “I have every reason to celebrate. Richard just assigned me a piece on the rising poverty levels in New Orleans.”

            Iris’ right eye twitched. She couldn’t understand for the life of her why Gretchen kept getting these stories? She hadn’t worked at the NOLA Gazette for long and Iris had proved multiple times that she had the gusto, guts, and drive to put one hundred percent into all of her assignments.

            Gretchen pouted, “Sweetheart, it doesn’t look like there is enough punch in your cup. You’re looking a little thirsty.”

            Iris raised her chin. As much as she wanted to reach out and snatch Gretchen by the hair, her father had raised her to be graceful in public, and deliver the blows where it counted. She would not engage in a public back and forth with Gretchen, her fight was with Richard.

            “Enjoy the rest of the party, Gretchen.” Iris patted her shoulder. “Hopefully you took the streetcar tonight.” She fake laughed, “With all that wine, I don’t think you’ll be sober enough to get behind the wheel for a few hours.”

            “Are you offering a ride?” Gretchen purred.

            Iris tilted head to the side and smiled; it was the kind of smile that she saved for war. “I’m just telling you to be careful. My husband works with the NOPD and he told me that the cops are out.”

            Gretchen cackled. “Noted.”

            Iris nodded as she sauntered past Gretchen, head held high, and heels clanking on the floor. Aside from the poor man’s Katie Couric, Gretchen, the party was not a complete bust.  _Barry was being social_. He tended to be awkward when in the presence of large crowds, but he was mingling, and she was so proud of him.

            Iris took a seat at their table. Her plate was practically licked clean, anxiety and stress made her eat, _more muffin top than woman_ , but Barry’s plate was a smorgasbord of finger foods. Shamelessly, Iris snagged Barry’s plate and started to feed. Meanwhile, she hawked Richard.

            He was with his brand new wife. A twenty something blonde with perky silicone breasts, a Kim Kardashian voice, and a nose that looked as if it had been reworked down to a stump. Iris needed to rein in her venom before talking to Richard.

            “I got something for you.” Barry said, appearing from behind her.

            “A club to knock out Gretchen?”

            Barry placed his hand on Iris’ shoulders. “I tried to save you from her.”

            “I know, Bear.” Iris always felt guilty about unloading on Barry. He was her husband so naturally he saw all her best and worst sides. Worst sides ranging from wild and crazy eyes to Exorcist head spinning, but yet he still loved her. Once again she needed to shake this crappy work-induced mood. “What did you get me?”

            “This.” Barry sat down and gave her a kiss on the lips.

            She sighed.

            “No, no.” Barry raised his thick eyebrows, and he smiled.

            “What?” she whispered.

            “You gave me a mean kiss.”

            “Barry, I’m in war machine mode.”

            “So,” he shrugged, and placed his hands on the sides of her face.

            Iris stared into his green eyes.

            Barry brought her closer and he rested his forehead against hers. “Fuck them.”

            “What were you talking about with my colleagues?” she asked, circling her fingers around Barry’s hands, he was still cradling her face, as if she was the most precious cargo. On instinct she was about to say, let’s not be cheesy, or _that_ couple, but her anger was quickly subsiding.

            “We were talking about quantum mechanics.”

            Iris grinned. “Quantum mechanics?”

            “There’s my smile.” He said.

            “How did you lure them into nerd world?”

            “I heard the buzz word nanoscopic scales and the rest is history.”

            Iris exhaled. “If you weren’t here…”

            “Then you’d  _still_  have this all under control.” Barry nodded.

            “I love you, okay?”

            “I love you too, babe. But you ate all of my food.”

            “Will you love me when I explode? Because all of this frustration will one day turn me into the Stay Puft Marshmallow Man terrorizing major cities.”

            Barry giggled. “Do you want me to get you more food?”

            “ _What_?” she swatted him.

            He stared back at her confused. “Uh—what did I do…or say?”

            “More food?” Iris scowled. “You should be withholding food. I will eat everything in this room.”            

            Barry shrugged and pulled out his phone.

            “What are you doing?” she asked just to bug him.

            “Netflix.”

            “You better be in your own queue. I don’t want your documentaries taking up my “since you watched” category.”

            Barry laughed. “Keep it up and I’ll fill your queue up with Barney.”

            “ _How I met your Mother_ , Barney?”

            “No, Barney, the Big Purple Dinosaur.” He kissed her shoulder.

            “Barry Allen, you better not put that nightmarish thing on my feed.”

            He wrinkled his nose at her. Iris noticed that Barry’s phone was running low, she was about to give him hers, but then Caitlin called.

            “Oh, it’s Cait.” Iris answered. “Hey, sweetie!”

            “You never call me sweetie.” Barry teased from the corner of his mouth. And then he added. “Tell Cait, to give Lucas a kiss for me, and to tell him that daddy misses him.”

            Iris smirked in amusement.

            “Iris, I’m so sorry to call.”

            “Is everything okay?”

            “Yes. Everything is fine. Lucas wants to watch _Transformers_.”

            “Aww, but you got Disney movies?”

            “I know.” Caitlin sounded disappointed. “I was going to sing the songs to him.”

            They both laughed.

            “But he doesn’t want Disney. He wants robots and explosions and obvious models who are doubling as the daughter of Mark Wahlberg. I blame Ronnie.”

            “Caitlin, it’s kind of loud in here. I’m going to move to another room.”

            “Iris, no, don’t let me keep you.”

            “No, it’s totally fine.” Iris said quickly. She bent down to whisper in Barry’s ear, and rested the phone near her thigh. “I’m going to talk to Caitlin, and then we’ll stay here for another hour. After that get ready for a marathon.”

            The tips of Barry’s ears reddened. “Good thing I’m not wearing underwear.”

            Iris looked down at her phone, Caitlin was still there. “No underwear with your suit!”

            Barry laughed. “I’m kidding. I am wearing underwear. I can’t show up to your classy party looking like the reverse Julia Roberts in _Pretty Woman_. You have to pay me first before I bring the nasty.”

            Iris arched her eyebrows. “Mmm. I’m walking away now.”

            “You should.”

 

* * *

 

            Caitlin glanced over at Lucas and Ronnie.

            Ronnie was sitting at the table, a plate of play food was in front of him.

            “What is this, Luca?” Ronnie asked the chef.

            “Um…that is chocolate biscuits.” Lucas explained.

            Caitlin giggled and watched as Ronnie picked up the fake pizza, also known as chocolate biscuits, and took a pretend bite.

            “This is really good, Luca.” Ronnie said.

            “I’m back!” Iris announced in Caitlin’s ear.

            “How is the party?”

            “Hateful!” Iris exclaimed.

            “Oh no, why? What happened? Was it Gretchen? We hate Gretchen.”

            Caitlin really didn’t know or hate Gretchen. She met her once at a function, and Gretchen openly judged her, reminding Caitlin of all the high school girls she couldn’t wait to get away from. Only because Iris was her best-friend, did she group Gretchen in the horrible category.

            “She tried to come for me at the party.”

            “Come for you?”

            Iris laughed. “Caitlin, we need to get you hipper with the lingo of today.”

            Caitlin’s cheeks warmed. “I am hip!”

            “So not hip, but I love you anyways. So, yes, Lucas can watch _Transformers_. Don’t blame Ronnie, blame Bear. Over Thanksgiving they watched a marathon of Christopher Reeve, Superman movies.”

            “But…but….Disney.”

            “We can watch Disney. Have you heard from Felicity about her date?”

            “No,” Caitlin pouted. “That concerns me actually. What if this guy shows up to the date in a Michael Myers mask or drives a creepy white van or…”

            “Felicity is a big girl with wifi. If she needs help then she can hack the NOPD system.”

            Caitlin smiled sheepishly to herself.  _She was pregnant_. There was the urge to tell Iris, because they didn’t keep secrets from each other…but she couldn’t. Caitlin closed her eyes and took a deep breath.

            “Cait,”

            “Yeah?”

            “Are you okay?” Iris asked, tentatively.

            Caitlin smiled. It was a blessing and a curse that Iris knew her so well.

            “Auntie Caitlin, Auntie Caitlin.” Lucas ran over to her. “Would you like pancakes?” His green eyes were wide and full of joy. He was so happy. She couldn’t help but to feel lighter when around him.

            “I would love pancakes.” She said.

            “Would you prefer chocolate chip, blueberries, or mushroom pancakes?” He drew out the _roo_ in mushroom. Caitlin could tell that he wanted her to go for the chef’s special. “What did Uncle Ronnie get?”

            “He got laffy taffy!”

            Iris giggled on the other line. “Is Lucas behaving himself? He sounds like he’s in rambunctious mode.”

            “He’s being good.” Caitlin promised as she tickled his stomach. “Laffy taffy wasn’t on my menu, kiddo.”

            “Okay, okay.” He said sinking down to his knees. “Auntie wants laffy taffy?”

            “No, mushroom. I’m going to be adventurous.” Caitlin said, arching an eyebrow and giving Lucas an astute look.

            “Coming right up!” And then he ran away.

            “Go back to Barry, Iris.” Caitlin said.

            “He’s good. He has Netflix, and he’s making friends…they’re talking about…nanoscopic something or the other.”

            “That’s one way to make Barry feel comfortable, to find likeminded people.”

            “Okay, I’m going. Thanks again for watching Lucas. And I love you.”

            “Me too.” Caitlin said.

            “ _And_ , Caitlin, if you don’t tell me what’s wrong. I’m showing up tomorrow with red wine and moscato, and I’m going to force your hand.”

            “Now that I know your intentions. I won’t open the door.” Caitlin teased.

            “Ronnie will open the door.”

 

* * *

 

            “What did I miss?” Iris asked, as she sunk back into the seat beside Barry.

            He showed her his phone, which was at one percent battery life, “The ins and outs of a high security prison in Russia.”

             “Ah, shanks and icepicks.”

            Barry snickered. “Yeah, what’s Luca up to?”

            “You turned him into a monster. He doesn’t want to watch Disney movies anymore, he wants Optimus Prime.”

            Barry’s lips quirked into a smile, “he has his phases. He might like Disney again tomorrow.”

            Iris gave Barry her phone.

            “That’s okay, babe.”

            “You have no more juice.” She said.

            Stubbornly, he shook his head. Barry gave her back the phone and tucked his into his pocket. “I’m here with you. Netflix was only for entertainment when I was sitting awkwardly at the table alone.”

            “You didn’t look awkward.”

            He snorted. “I believe that I did.”

            Iris settled into her seat and she crossed her arms to her chest. “Can we talk about something?”

            “Of course,” he said softly.

            Iris reached for his hand under the table. He patiently waited for her to tell him what was on her mind.

            “So…you mentioned more kids earlier.”

            Barry let go of her hand and he went into a series of nervous ticks, stammering, holding his hands behind his head, and darting his eyes towards her and then away. It was like he was coming out of the ‘friend zone’ closet again.

            “I shouldn’t have said anything.”

            “Bear,”

            He shook his head and reached for a glass of champagne in front of him.

            “That’s not yours.”

            He paused. “Then whose is it?”

            “Judging by the purple lipstick on it…not mine.”

            He placed down the glass.

            “Bear, I don’t want you to feel like you can’t tell me things.” She didn’t plan on having this conversation now, but it was on her mind. The thought of another kid had been unthinkable a month ago, and still she wasn’t quite ready, but future kids did sound nice.

            “It was just a passing comment.”

            “Barry,” she sighed. “You’re doing that passive thing. I don’t like when you do that.”

            “It’s not passive.” He stared into her eyes. His expression was understanding. “I want more kids, obviously. But more than that I want you to have your Pulitzer.”

            “I do want more kids.” She said.

            “I know—but just not now.”

            Iris nodded.

            “That’s enough for me.” He assured.

            Iris pulled him towards her by his tie. I’m going to talk to Richard first and then we can leave.”

            Barry smiled, “Okay, babe. I’ll be here…thinking about all the ways we’re going to keep each other up tonight.”

 

* * *

 

            “Iris, surely we can talk about work at  _work_.” Richard was buzzed. Iris could clearly see that.

            There was no point in having a coherent conversation with him. “I agree. We can talk about this in the office on Monday. I have some concerns about the assignments I have been given lately.”

            Richard chuckled. “It sounds like you’re still talking to me about work…right now.”

            “Do not insult me.” Iris said, her tone was respectful but firm.

            Richard’s mouth dropped. “Iris, your candor is always appreciated around the office. We will discuss this further on Monday when the libations are not keeping me warm.” He chuckled. “We can work out something.”

            Iris narrowed her eyes at him.  _Work out what?_

            She didn’t trust Richard, in her eyes he was a walking lawsuit. A little too handsy around the office with women, a little too flirtatious, but he had never dared to mess around with her. As Iris stared into his bloodshot eyes, and sloppy smile, she wondered was all of this really worth it?

            Joe didn’t raise a quitter, but he did raise her to know the difference between quitting and wasting her time. The Times Picayune was looking better each day.

 

* * *

 

            CAITLIN: How is the date going?

            FELICITY: Wonderful

            CAITLIN: What?! Okay, okay. I’ll let you get back to it.

            FELICITY: Chargrilled oysters taste infinitely better when you have them all to yourself.

            CAITLIN: All to yourself? Is he allergic to oysters?

            FELICITY: Apparently, he is allergic to bright lights, long lines and sports games. He said that he was sick. More oysters and oyster shots for me!

 

* * *

 

            “Maybe Iris has some friends that we could pair Oliver with?” Lyla said, as she put on her earrings.

            Diggle was sitting on the bed in his boxer briefs, torn between the football game and getting ready for Acme Oyster House. “Lyla, a woman isn’t going to fix Oliver’s problems.”

            “John, you misunderstood me.” Lyla turned away from the mirror. “No, the last thing Oliver needs is just another woman. He needs someone to talk to, someone to understand…”

            “That’s what I’m here for.” Diggle said.

            Lyla drew in a breath. Oliver Queen was a prickly subject with her husband. They were close friends, and while Diggle was usually the most rational out of all the people she knew, Oliver was his blind spot. When Oliver was reckless, Diggle went to save him. When Oliver made a bad decision, Diggle would reprimand Oliver, and then do whatever he could to fix it. Oliver was a good guy, but he needed serious help.

            She stood up and went over to Diggle. Lyla sunk down onto the bed beside him. “I was just asking if Iris had any friends, because we like Iris…and I’m sure she has some level-headed friends who could…” she choose her words carefully, “Show Ollie around the Greater New Orleans area and distract him from…everything.”

            “Iris is a reporter, and she might be writing a piece on Oliver.” Diggle pointed out. “And, Barry, her husband, doesn’t care for Oliver.”

            “Most people don’t.”

            Diggle gave his wife the side-eye.

            “ _What_?” she reached for his arm and wrapped it around her. “Before he lost his family in that tragic accident, he was just an entitled billionaire who had yacht parties, naked pictures all over the internet, and countless flings with Hollywood A-listers. People couldn’t relate to him.”

            Diggle glanced at the crib where Sara was sleeping. “I know you don’t get it Lyla…but Oliver is my friend. The world may know him as this party boy billionaire, but I know him as Oliver Queen.”

            “I know, you get really passionate about him.”

            “Yes…I already lost one brother.”

            Lyla closed her eyes. She thought inviting Oliver to New Orleans was a good idea, but maybe it wasn’t—seeing how just mentioning Oliver’s name wedged a chasm between them.

 

* * *

 

            The second Barry and Iris got in the car, Barry fell asleep.

            Thirty minutes later, Barry shot up.

            “Woah, woah, woah.  _Iris_?”

            “Bear?”

            “ _I was sleeping_.”

            “Apparently you were tired. We still have half an hour until we get there.”

            “Babe, we need to find a convenience store. I need Red Bull and sugar.”

            “ _Babe_ , go back to sleep.”

            “But, I don’t want to be tired when we get to…” he stared out the window. “Where are we going?”

            “We’re on Route 90 West. We’re going to Houma.”

            He smiled. “Cool.”

            “Go back to sleep.”

            “Actually…we have a dark road and swamps all around us. I think that I could wake us both up…an alternative to Red Bull and sugar.”

            Iris licked her lips. “What do you have in mind?”

            He kissed her arm and then ducked his head lower. “Our kid isn’t with us. There is no logical reason I can think of for us to be good.” Barry used his teeth to inch up the fabric of her dress, and then he kissed her thigh. The steering wheel was more than annoying but he focused on Iris’ perfume and the hitch in every breath. “Just don’t crash us into a swamp okay.”

            Iris gripped onto the wheel tighter as Barry eased off her panties with a mischievous glint in his eyes, and then his head disappeared under her skirt.

            “This will keep us both awake.” He murmured, before Iris’ entire body began to quiver.

 


End file.
